Monsters
by LoveMeForAllTheWrongReasons
Summary: Delve into the psyche of Olivia as she begins experiencing symptoms of Stockholm Syndrome after being kidnapped and held against her will by Lewis in "Surrender Benson."
1. Intro

Mascara tears trailed down my porcelain skin as I watched the large, oak door slam behind him as he left. I choked back the sobs that threatened to escape me, trying to remind myself that he would be back. He always came back. He had to. He promised. He always kept his promises. Minutes felt like hours as I stared at the door, mindlessly playing with the silver duct tape around my wrists as I waited for his return. I could endure his punishments: The cigarette burns, the cuts, the bruises, the brutal assaults. They were nothing in comparison to being left alone to deal with my deafening thoughts. What if he didn't come back? My mind began playing out every horrifying scenario possible. What if the cops were to see him ditching the vehicle this time? What if he had gotten pulled over again? What if somebody recognized him from the news and turned him in? We had been running for weeks with far too many close calls. How long could we possibly evade the police? How long could we possibly evade the cruelty of the outside world?

My stomach growled, waking me from the dangerous path my mind was traveling. Lewis had promised me breakfast upon his return. He always kept his promises. I felt little hunger though, despite the starvation that was likely setting in. I couldn't possibly think of food at a time like this. Not with him gone. How long had it been? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? I felt my chest constrict, panic setting in once again. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to focus on controlling my breathing. I wasn't sure that my body could handle another panic attack. They were beginning to happen more frequently when he left. I couldn't stand the thought of losing him. Not after everything we'd been through together.

"Breathe, Olivia." I quietly willed myself, gently rocking my body back and forth in an attempt to soothe my anxieties. Wincing, I looked down at my bound wrists and ankles. My porcelain skin was littered in deep, crimson bruises from the duct tape and handcuffs. They didn't pain me nearly as much as his distrust in me did. I assured him I wouldn't run. I couldn't bare the thought of leaving him after everything he'd done for me. Couldn't he see that? Tears pooled in my eyes once more, threatening to fall. I wanted more than anything to please him, to prove my devotion to him for saving me.

My vision began to blur again, this time it wasn't the tears clouding my vision. Had I taken any pills this morning before he left? Had I drank more Vodka? Or was that the previous morning? The days were beginning to blur together. My mind was swimming, trying to make sense of the dizzy spells again. My head ached as I carefully forced myself to the floor in an attempt to save myself another fall in the likely chance that I passed out again. The cool floorboards felt comforting against my cheek as I closed my eyes, succumbing to the darkness that surrounded me. I didn't mind the darkness anymore. It was my safe place while he was away. My own little piece of heaven. I smiled softly as the darkness took me further and further away from the pain. He would return soon, and all would be right again. It had to be. He promised. He always kept his promises.


	2. Chapter One

_Two weeks earlier_

"Welcome home, Detective Benson." My body froze as I felt the cool barrel of a gun pressed softly against my right temple. Lewis. How had he managed to get in? Instinctively, I reached for the gun in my holster. "Uh uh" He warned, pressing the gun deeper into my flesh. I heard the safety click and immediately raised my hands in admitted defeat.

"Okay, okay…" My voice trailed off, unsure of my next move as he grabbed my gun and stuck it into the back of his torn blue-jeans. "Lewis-" I began slowly, regaining my voice. "just put the gun down, okay? You already have my weapon." I reasoned, my hands still raised up and away from my body.

"Listen up, _Detective,_" he sneered, putting unnecessary emphasis on his words. "we're playing by my rules now. Turn around slowly and put your hands on the wall. You know the drill." I swallowed hard, taking in his words as I slowly nodded and turned to move against the wall. "Don't try anything cute." He smirked, taunting me with his gun.

Through my years of training, I'd learned it was ill advised to ever turn your back on an armed perpetrator. Unfortunately, I saw little choice given my current predicament. With my hands against the wall, he pressed himself against me forcefully. He groaned softly as he removed my jacket, exposing my arms. He began patting me down, taking his time as his hands met my chest.

"How does it feel to be on the opposite side of a frisking, Detective?" I could hear his amusement as he cupped my breasts once more before moving lower. Just as his hands met my lower abdomen I elbowed him as hard as I could in the abdomen. Unfortunately, I had meant to hit a target slightly lower, but my aim was off. He stumbled backwards, nonetheless, holding his stomach as he sank to the floor.

"Help!" I screamed, hardly recognizing my own voice as I bolted towards my front door. Surely somebody would hear the commotion, call the police or at least file a noise complaint. Pure adrenaline coursed through my veins as I tried the doorknob, only to realize Lewis had locked both the lock and the deadbolt. My fists pounded wildly against the wooden door as I scrambled to unlock the locks in my panicked frenzy. "Somebody,"

"You fucking bitch." I was cut off as Lewis grabbed a fistful of my chestnut hair, pulling me further back into my apartment. His hands flew to my mouth, trying desperately to quiet my screams. Without hesitation, I bit down and was surprised as warm liquid bubbled to the surface of his skin and entered my mouth. I spit as I kicked and hit, my body putting up one hell of a fight on pure instinct. To my surprise though, he laughed as he gripped my hair tighter, eliciting another cry to escape my lips. "You're going to wish you hadn't done that." He growled.

Before I could react, he backed me against the furthest wall of my apartment near the window that overlooked the city. I caught a glimpse of the city, the shimmering lights and the hustle and bustle of the night life before stumbling slightly, tripping over my own feet as he forcefully slammed my head against the wall. I think I cried out, but I couldn't be sure as the blackness consumed me for a split second. Before I could fully recover my vision, I felt myself being lifted by the collar of my shirt. I opened my mouth to protest, but couldn't find the words. He threw me against the island of my kitchen, my body scattering empty dishes and unfiled paperwork everywhere. I winced as his hands once again found a fistful of my hair.

"Maybe I should fuck you right here, on top of all of your paperwork. Is my file somewhere on this counter, Detective Benson?" He asked, bringing his face closer to mine. I could smell the alcohol that lingered on his breath as he brushed his lips against mine. "I should make you read my file out loud while I fuck you right here. We can act out every dirty detail you have down on that paper. Tell me, Detective, does that get you hot? Tell me you don't come home from a long, grueling day and sit here at this counter, pour yourself a glass of wine, and read these case files over and over. Maybe you imagine yourself getting some too, huh?" He smirked, grinding himself against me from behind. "Tell me you didn't get off reading my file, imagining the things I could do to you."

"You're a rapist and a murderer." I spat, my stomach churning at his words. He was right, I did study his case files. I knew more than I had ever wanted to know about this sadistic animal. This meant I knew that he was looking for satisfaction in getting me to admit that he was something special. That he was above the rest of the criminals I came into contact with.

Clearly this wasn't a sufficient answer, as he spun me around and grabbed me by my throat. He shoved me backwards against the wall. I stumbled again, almost losing my footing but I recovered and managed to stand. I was free of his grasp once again, but found myself cornered between him, the wall, and the kitchen counter. He closed the distance between us as he stalked closer. It happened too quickly for me to respond. I heard the sound of flesh meeting flesh and felt myself colliding with the floor before the pain set in. I cupped my left cheek in pain as tears threatened to fall.

Bending down, he easily lifted me from the ground by my throat. His grip tightened, effectively cutting off my air supply as he held me against the wall once more. "Or maybe, I should kill you first and then fuck you so I don't have to listen to that smart mouth of yours?" He questioned, menacingly. Seconds felt like minutes as he continually tightened his grip around my throat with both hands. I tried to pry his hands from me, scratching, hitting him, but to no avail. The more I struggled, the tighter his strong hands gripped me. Surely he wouldn't kill me this soon, it wasn't like him. Then again, Lewis didn't play by anybody's rules.

Small, pathetic gurgling noises escaped me as saliva ran down my chin. My once cozy, little, one-bedroom apartment that I had felt so secure in was going to be my murder scene. What would Brian think when he walked in to find me here tomorrow? We had shared so many intimate nights here, cuddled up on my sofa,sipping coffee, discussing the loneliness that all-too-often plagued our souls. It had taken months to even begin to trust Brian, trust was never my forte in relationships. All of that risk, all of those nights were for nothing. I was going to die at the hands of one of the most sadistic men SVU had ever come into contact with. He would find me here: a victim of Lewis. A victim.

This realization spurred a new fight in me. I wouldn't be another victim. I couldn't be a victim. Not after everything I'd been through, after everything I'd seen. I was a survivor. I struggled harder, my fists pounding against his chest. I swung blindly with my other arm, hoping to make any contact as blackness began to cloud my vision. He sighed in what seemed to be nothing short of annoyance as he gathered my tiny wrists in one hand, his other hand still firmly strangling me. He pinned my wrists above my head, and yet I still continued to fight. If I was going to die, I was going to put up one hell of a figh-

I heard a snap and was pulled from my thoughts as blackness quickly began to consume me. I sank to the floor in a crumpled mess, sure that I was taking my last breaths as I gasped for air. The darkness brought about peace, a sense of tranquility, and yet I knew I had to fight it. I whimpered, willing my eyes to open but to no avail. The word _victim_ surfaced in my mind as the darkness finally consumed my entirety.


End file.
